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inkth · 7 years ago

Text

cream of the crop pt. 1

pairing → mygxreader

genre → angst (in future parts), fluff

warnings → for this part, there are no warnings

word count → 6.6k

okAY so fyi this is unedited for now and i might come back to switch certain things up but oh my god in bon voyage there was a part where yoongi got a strawberry milkshake and i stg this was in my wip waaaay before that so when i saw the gif i think i wailed a bit bc he made it literally canon my friends!!!! hope u enjoy this guys im chwishfsdkfhl

Yoongi just wanted a god damn strawberry milkshake to release work stress. not to be grabbed by the arm by a stranger begging him to role play as some perfect boyfriend or another.

There are a variety of absurd experiences Min Yoongi has been unfortunate enough to cross within his current lifetime.

Thinking back, there was that time Yoongi picked up the phone to his childhood best friend Kim Namjoon, who thought he was being robbed by foreigners on the side of the street at one in the afternoon, and frantically asked Yoongi to please come save him by the way its the sidewalk on 44th street bring a gun!

“What kind of fucking robbers let you make a phone call, dumbass?” Yoongi barked into the phone, pretty upset that his afternoon nap was interrupted by some nonsensical disturbance.

“Oh shit Yoongi, you’re probably right,” Namjoon exhales and stays on the phone with him though, as he tries to solve the mystery of the tourists who just wanted to let Namjoon know that he had dropped a couple bills. They were discreetly carrying knives because they were opening a wood carving stand a block over, Namjoon explained later. Yoongi was quite the unamused listener.

There was another time in his already awfully long life when Yoongi himself was found caught in the middle of a fight between a Minecraft gamer and a ballerina carrying a flower vase, but that was a long story where it finally ended with him being released from custody as soon as the police had determined his innocence.

Or that other glitch in his simulation of a life when he had to bring nine cats home with him after work. Yoongi never knew he had a cat allergy, but he learned it the hard way that night as he sneezed so hard for so long till he couldn’t hear anything out of his ears.

So when Yoongi is feeling something in the air tickle his nugget of a brain that he should skip his ritual milkshake tonight and head on home right away to avoid whatever this coming disturbance is, Yoongi does what Yoongi does best, and he ignores his intuition because who cares, what Yoongi wants is his McFreaking milkshake.

Everything goes smoothly. Yoongi successfully orders a milkshake at the bar. He successfully receives the right order. He successfully starts to drink the milkshake in the quiet serenity of two am on a Monday.

But then he fails to leave as soon as she comes in the door, the same girl who legitimately flings the entrance open like some wild animal and he is so horrified he can’t look away from this scene and makes the mistake of meeting your gaze.

The damage is done, however. He knows you’ve selected him as your prey among the barren tables save for one lady picking up fries togo and the waitress staring at you in fear.

“Lady, please get off me,” he groans, pulling your fingers off his biceps as if they’re blood hungry leeches. His arm is free for maybe a second before your fingers fly back, grip stronger than before and this time Yoongi really can’t do much with just the one tired, exhausted hand; the one that isn’t holding the milkshake glass.

He’s whispering a string of curses and damnations at One Week Ago Yoongi for slacking with working out. Or any of his past Yoongis, really. He rests his head on the tips of his fingers, weighing down on his elbow angled onto the table.

“You don’t understand,” you wheeze dramatically, eyes round with terror. Uh, hello? I don’t care enough to understand, Yoongi mentally comments. “My parents, they-“

Sure, you might’ve been exaggerating everything a little, but what’s a little show and extravagance when your damn life is on the line? A matter of life and death knows no tranquility.

He looks at you half lidded; boredom and ‘are you really still talking to me Ican’tbelievetheaudacity’ washing over his face doing a whole awful lot to create a grave aura around him. You can physically see the deathly ash gray energy come off him in waves like something from an anime.

At this point, Yoongi’s thinking he might just ditch you, make a run for it to never see your crazy ass again and the idea is so tempting but instead, he responds. He’s not too sure why, although it’s probably ‘cause he’s paid an awful lot for this deliciously overpriced milkshake that has yet to be completely consumed. But the fact of the matter is he does respond, even thought you’re clearly not in the right state of mind and he really should be telling you to go home.

“Listen, they’re not gunna care if your boyfriend’s a bum. It’s your life anyways, why would they care?” Yoongi notices he’s got about another sip or two of his milkshake and then he can hightail it outta this joint and a certain spazz grabbing onto him.

You let go of his arm, thinking maybe you came off a little too strong and run your hands over your hair to pat down the flyaways contributing to the messy, crazed look.

“Now, I really absolutely must get going… miss,” Yoongi has finished his drink with a content sigh, a little disappointed that the experience was partially ruined with your improv tug of war, but content nonetheless. “Don’t worry, I’ll go ahead and take care of your water,” he reassures you dryly and stands up from the bar’s long legged chair, grabbing his expensive leather jacket. The best purchase he’s ever made in his life, he tends to overshare this fact to anything or anyone with two ears and legs, seeing as how he wears it everyday through wind, rain and the scorching heat.

Your eyes flash in one last lunge of desperation and your integrity flies out the window and disappears into the sky like a balloon. Floating away… peacefully, gone forever till all that’s left is your soulless body embarrassing yourself like this on a Monday at two am.

“Please,” you choke out one last time and sincerity taints your voice, everything you’ve depended on relying on this thin line of his consent.

There’s something about it that Yoongi finds himself hesitating for as his mind reels from the way your fingers grip the end of his jacket sleeve.

“I really, truly only need your help for a couple days. I-I’ll even pay you.”

Your eyes dart to the floor from his face with your final push, unable to face rejection one last time from help you so ridiculously need. His body halts, and with this, you take it as a sign for your fingers to relax and stop holding his like some child refusing to let go of their lollipop.

There’s one thing the weary should know, and it’s that one specific thing hits a chord with Min Yoongi that makes him who he is.

“Shit.”

Hana looks up at you in what seemed like concern and a bit of ‘damn, you live like this?’ tainting her face. You keep going back and forth between looking down at your most recent message on your phone and up to her face, still contorted in confusion unable to face the reality that is your life right now.

You’re not okay, this can’t be happening — everything you had worked up for up until this point, only to be destroyed by your parents’ wrath would be the endgame for your life. You need to lie down and forget this day even happened.

“Are you, okay?” She can’t help but emphasize the ‘okay’ with leaning her head in a tilt.

“Hana,” you squeak out, hands pressed against your eyes till you see stars. It’s late, you’re braincell-less from such last minute studying and you’re absolutely, completely fucked. And not in the nice way you normally would want to be.

“My parents are coming over and want to meet Jungkook.”

Hana lets out a strangled gurgle of terror from the back of her throat as she runs her hands through her dark hair and crawls over to you to peer at your phone screen. Now that she knows you’re fucked, you want to throw your phone out the window and run away. Or just throw yourself out the window. You stand up from your sitting position on the floor and take deep breaths counting to ten and back again.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “You’re screwed.”

You twist your face and tell her, “Thank you so very much for the vote of confidence! I’ll just have to remember that while trying to explain everything to my parents.”

Hana’s pained smile emits an apologetic vibe as she continues to voice her thoughts. “Damn. Seriously though… what’re you gonna do, I mean. You still have… two days?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” you wail, falling back to the floor and hoping it’ll somehow open up, and take your body into the recesses of the earthy ground. “Is a day or two even enough time for him to come back from that trip?”

“Wait, you mean you would have your parents actually meet him?” Hana looks over at you incredulously. “Like, we’re talking about your boyfriend Jeon Jungkook, right?”

Backtrack – So, okay, yes maybe you had a few flaws. One of them was the fact that you were maybe a little too prideful. As in it’d physically pain you for your parents to know that your boyfriend was a bum who did absolutely nothing.

You had lied to your parents from the very beginning, pulling off the scam with a few explanations here and there saying, “Oh, no he’s too shy. He won’t take pictures!” when your parents wanted to see who this guy was. The occasional “He can’t meet up with us because he’s studying for his very big exam haha you know how these studious nerds are sorry!”

You wince from her tone, speaking as if he’s a demon sent from hell, and start collecting strands of your hair to comb through with worry.

“I mean, if he were here I could play him up as the guy I made him out to be,” you mused. “They don’t even know what he looks like. Probably think he’s afraid of cameras, poor baby.”

Hana looks slightly revolted from your gently verbalized “uwu” and snaps her fingers to garner your attention back onto the matter at hand.

“Wait- I,” you sat back up, all the blood rushing this way and that causing a weird feeling to consume you and you see black for a good three seconds before it dissipates. “Don’t judge me for what I’m about to say.”

“Done,” Hana nods. “I live with you and judge you enough already.”

You look at her unimpressed, lips curled into an unamused smile.

“How about I get a fake boyfriend? Like, right now?”

Hana doesn’t even know where to begin she laughs because she thinks you’re literally joking but then stops when she knows you’re not. “Uh, you do realize it is two am, Y/N. Where are you planning on going to look for an accomplice to role play your perfect boyfriend?”

“Honestly speaking, I’ll probably have to go to a bar or something.” Just saying this out loud was enough to acknowledge that you yourself were not thinking straight.

“You’re just going to walk into a bar and pick up the first dude you lay eyes on is what you’re implying…” Hana trails off, as she begins to re-evaluate the situation. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you sigh, brushing off your jeans as you stand up. “But this is my only option.”

“Well, you could always tell the truth to your mom and dad. You don’t have to be so full of it, Y/N. And listen, you’re 20 going on 21… how much longer are you going to hide this from your parents? You’re literally an adult.”

You frown and start walking out of the room, grabbing a jacket before you head outside and to the car. “I’m not full of it,” you defend your poor self. “I just need my parents to think I’m living my best life with the best boyfriend so they don’t rub in how they were right all this time or whatever overprotective shit they wanna pull on me.”

Hana holds up her hands as an act of surrendering and picks up your phone from the floor to hand it to you. Before it’s passed off however, a pinging sounds and she calls out the notification.

“Your mom texted you to say–“ Hana squints from how dark your phone’s lighting is. “They’re actually planning on starting to drive over tonight and should make it here by tomorrow evening?”

You start to panic, countless thoughts crashing the calm of your mind like stormy waves as you start to assess your problem at hand. You need to find a fake boyfriend, said fake boyfriend must learn what must be learned about you and said fake boyfriend will need to do a good enough job to keep your parents away forever and hopefully this will work because you don’t know what you’ll do the next time your parents come to “check up” on you because they think something’s fishy with this hypothetical fake boyfriend.

You let out what sounds like something between a sob and a groan as you snatch the phone from Hana’s hands and run out of the house, debating between driving to the nearest diner or running away from home.

See, the problem with your parents were that they were overbearing to the point that they even hated the fact you decided to attend college out of state. Mind them, it was only one state away, but it did absolutely nothing to soothe their constant fretting over your wellbeing and life. You were fed up with the relentlessly strict parental control and went crazy in college – finally dating, drinking and partying – although it was still at a good minimum.

To expose to your parents that you were dating an undecided major who spent the money he could scrounge around for on video games was a one-way ticket to hell so in order to save face and keep up the façade that you in fact were living your best life possible, you dreamt up of the littlest, white lie.

Your boyfriend was a perfect boy. One grade above you, one his way to graduating as a summa cum laude. He had an internship and was already guaranteed a job after college as a biomedical engineering major. You painted the perfect picture so you could present yourself in the best way possible to your parents.

The way your hard work was about to be shattered by the way so many coincidences piled on top of each other was a bit frustrating to say the least. You weren’t sure how you kept this a secret for so long and frankly, how your parents didn’t doubt you from the start but now they believed him to be a camera shy, facetime shy boy that only spent his time studying.

You didn’t even want to start on the numerous occasions you and Jungkook had ended a night fighting because of this ridiculous situation, that sure, you put yourselves in. You weren’t sure why you did this, but of course it wasn’t because you were too prideful.

Yoongi never lets money slip out of his hands. Call him frugal, call him thrifty, he doesn’t care. He just knows that if it’s worth the price, he’ll do it.

“Fine. I’ll do this. But I want cash and I want half of the end amount right now,” he knows he’s being demanding and it does look like you reek of eau de poor college student but with the request you’re making, he thinks it’s only fair.

You look teeny tiny and exhausted from the way you crumple your body on the seat next to him and it’s annoying how much work you’re going through because of a simple lie, but you can’t back out now. The way you’ve been explaining the situation to him is really making you sound a little crazy but hey, you’re only human and this isn’t the weirdest situation Yoongi has ever been in.

“How is this even going to work?” Yoongi looks at you as if you haven’t thought this far ahead. “Haven’t they seen his face? Is he even okay with this? Are you running a scam show? If this turns out to be a mess, I want no part of the repercussions.” He squints at you and crosses his arms, eyeing you suspiciously.

“I’m not stupid,” you roll your eyes and scrunch your face from irritation. “They’ve never seen pictures or anything of his face. I’m thankful my boyfriend doesn’t have social media, but I mean, even if he did my parents are technologically inept, anyways.”

“This is so extra, this is like, almost kind of idiotically stupid,” with a snort, Yoongi continues to doubt you. “I can’t believe I agreed to this. You better pay me the remaining amount as soon as this shit’s done. I’ve got things to do.”

“I’m sure you have so much stuff to do concerning your things,” you bite back and have to hold steady the urge to punch his weak looking noodle arm. Just keep thinking about how grateful you are that this sort of handsome spawn of the devil is agreeing to save your ass and livelihood.

He huffs and has the audacity to look offended, loosely crossing his arms across his chest. “Whatever, run this by me again.”

“Okay,” you sigh. You nearly teeter off the edge of the stool from sleepiness, an untouched glass of water in front of you and you watch the droplets trickle down the sides of the condensating cup. “My name is Y/N and yours is Jeon Jungkook. I’m 20 and you’re 21…”

You start to list off factual information and the details get a little blurry as they re-enter his mind because now it’s almost 3:20 in the morning and Yoongi just wanted a fucking milkshake but now it’s like he’s in college all over again, cramming all the notes and tidbits of information he can into his mind to purge it in five hours on the dreadful test. Even though Yoongi’s suffering, he starts noticing these things about you that’s definitely a little confusing to him and gets him a little worked up but in all the right ways.

He pays attention to the way when you laugh you move to cover your mouth with your hand, it’s kind of endearing. Sure, he’ll admit he thought you were pretty behind the air of desperation and super strange vibes you let out when you first marched into the door. Like, perhaps very pretty. He’s not sure but it might be something to do with the shape of your eyes and the pink of your lips. But the tendency you have to tilt your head when you smile is something that Yoongi starts noticing too and–

Yoongi catches himself thinking these thoughts that are so out of bounds and unnecessarily loud. It’s okay, he mentally argues. These are fake boyfriend feelings and it is late. I am exhausted, I don’t know what I am talking about.

And there you have it folks. Yoongi solves this problem of the Case of Weird Emotions with a simple answer. He’s just a really good fucking actor and can get into character so well that he starts thinking the way his character would. That’s all. And now Yoongi is mentally punching himself because he sounds really fucking weird. And fuck, he needs to stop cursing because he needs to be a well polished, dapper, perfect boyfriend.

He shudders and you see it, not because you’ve been looking at him but because he does it in a really obvious way that calls for attention in your peripheral vision.

“Are you alright?” You ask warily, eyeing him because what if he’s having a spasm attack holy shit?

Yoongi grunts with his absurdly deep voice and says, “Yeah, go on.”

“I wish we had more time,” you whine, rubbing your probably bloated face with sweater paws and something tickles Yoongi’s heart from the way you look and speak although he does his best to ignore it.

“It’s okay, I’ll remember this, I’m pretty sure… let’s just try and come up with a code word or something for me. Like, if I don’t know something I’ll say or do something and you’ll cover for me.”

You nod your head and for the first time that night it seems like you really smile and it’s cute, but not cute enough to swindle Min Yoongi’s heart. Of course not.

“Do you know how to crack your fingers?” You ask after a few moments of deep contemplation.

Yoongi suddenly looks small because he’s shoving his hands in between his thighs to cover them from the cold and you almost coo as he nods his head yes.

“Great,” you look away from his figure to calm yourself. “Just do that and then I’ll fill in. That’s the signal.”

“Does this mean we’re done now?” Yoongi’s voice has gotten raspy over the span of time you’ve spent with him because of how he spent most of it just listening to you and barely opened his mouth.

“I dunno,” you nervously gnaw on your lower lip, another habit Yoongi has picked up on fondly. Or not fondly, not at all… at least only fondly with fake boyfriend feelings. “I’m really not sure how this is going to turn out. Thankfully my friend is going to stay at a friend’s house to avoid more possible complications.”

“Alright then, give me a call tomorrow morning and I’ll get over to your place by two in the afternoon.”

You shake your head, “No, come earlier. We need as much time as possible to go over this. Remember? They’re arriving sometime that night.”

Yoongi groans from the revolting sentence he has just been forced to hear and he cries, “But I can’t! You’ve kept me up for this long evil lady, I should’ve been in bed falling asleep hours ago!”

“I’m sorry,” you feebly offer. “But I really need to nail in a lot more with you.”

Yoongi grumbles a wide variety of things under his breath comprised of but not limited to, “You’re lucky you’re cute”, “Fuck, I need a good ten hours of sleep to retain all this information, though” and “Damn it, I want my money”.

“Fine– 11 is the earliest I’ll be there. And are you sure you’re okay with giving me your freaking address? You’re going to let a stranger know where you live and you’re fine with it,” Yoongi lowers his tone towards the last bit in uncertainty.

“I’ll be fine because my roommate is a police force trainee who has armed me with a panic button along with pepper spray. You’ve been warned,” you wiggle your brows. “Plus you’re my fake boyfriend and you want the money. I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven.”

You both get up from your chairs, leaving cash tips and Yoongi’s expression changes into one of respect and newfound admiration.

“Duly noted,” he chuckles as he holds the door open for you to walk through, the brisk, autumnal air enveloping you.

Outside in the parking lot you head towards your car and see only a couple other vehicles, one of them being a motorcycle and you don’t think twice about it till Yoongi is waving goodbye to you as he walks in the direction of it.

“Wait,” you call out and Yoongi immediately halts, turning to face you with an expectant raise of his brow. “That’s your ride?” You point at the motorcycle.

He smirks and shoves his hands into his leather jacket as deep black as the galaxy and his hair swirls around from the wind above his twinkling eyes.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

You groan, wondering if you have enough money to fork up however much it would cost to rent a car. You’re pretty sure you don’t, but if it’s for this boy, the best you could pick out on a quiet Monday morning at two, the cream of the crop, you’ve really got no other choice.

You just hope this cream of the crop has a license to drive a car.

The next morning you wake up at eight, sitting up in your plush bed as memories of last night flood your mind in horror. Restless sleep tightened your neck through the night, stress eating away at you and your ability to sleep peacefully.

You groan, peeking at your alarm clock and take a deep breath before you whip your hair out of your face and harden your resolve by sheer will. You pull of the covers and step out of your room, trailing for the kitchen in order to brew yourself some deeply needed coffee.

“Coffee first,” you mumble. Priorities.

Hana is sitting in the living room, a mug on the coffee table in front of her. She looks up as soon as she sees you enter from the short hallway.

“Mornin’ sunshine, there’s some coffee left for you,” she chippers cheerfully. “You got up pretty early. You’re meeting the man of the hour soon, right?”

“Meh, don’t remind me,” you grumble, shuffling into the kitchen and from the coffee machine, you see her kick her slippers off and finish the last of her homework. You pour the still hot liquid holy grail into your Totoro mug and start to mix in cream and sugar seeing as how you’re not as abhorrent as Hana with her love of black coffee.

“But damn, you were just a wreck last night,” Hana teases. “I can’t believe you really got someone to do something this crazy for a girl they just met.”

“It was the money,” you point out, sipping the first few tastes of coffee. It needs a bit more sugar. “I’m so fucken exhausted! Listen, I don’t even have that kind of money to pay him.” You can hear your stash of hidden cash for emergencies underneath your drawer already crying for help. This could qualify as an emergency, you doubtfully suppose.

Hana is still recovering from the surprise of hearing your insane plan worked, even if she found out last night. You remember how you entered the house, satisfied with how quote on quote smoothly the ordeal went even if you were about to be $600 short on money and stressfully sleep deprived the next morning. Hana walked out of her room with sleepy eyes and a bit of bedhead to you getting ready for bed so early in the morning, although she gained a bit of consciousness after hearing how your plan had indeed, succeeded.

Now that it’s the morning and your adrenaline rush had bled away and you’re in a clearer state of mind, doubt starts to trickle in and you are wondering what in hell you were thinking in the first place. You shake the thoughts away and focus on the task at hand.

“I’ll be getting out of the house soon,” Hana comments, starting to pack up whatever textbooks and notes she’ll need for the next day or two.

“You’re the amazingest,” you gratefully smile at her and try to convey your upmost sincerity. As best you could, at least.

“Yes,” she agrees mindlessly. “I am, aren’t I? I am so amazing—so amazing that I am literally leaving the apartment that I share with you for you and the stranger to bond and learn how to role play as lovers. It sounds crazy, I know, but here we are.”

Your smile fades away as you look at her in playful disbelief. “Go to your room, pack your granny underwear and your granny clothes, and leave this household!”

Hana scrunches her nose in distaste, “They’re not granny clothes! They’re retro! And thongs or whatever strip of fabric you claim are underwear are so uncomfortable, literally leavemealonegoodnightDevil!”

You laugh as she prances to her room to stuff her duffle bag full of clothes she’ll need in order to survive for the time she’s gone and you glance at the clock to see it read 8:30, and you go off to your room to get ready for the very. Incredibly. Extremely, long day ahead.

It is at ten that you have finished cleaning up your room, taken a quick shower and waved off Hana out of the home you two share. You walk back inside after seeing her depart safely promising to text you when she arrives, even though it’s the daytime and she’s just a good ten feet away, you never know what could happen. Even if she’s almost a police officer.

Which, speaking of, she has reminded you countlessly about, telling you to pass on the message that she will personally come to fuck him up if anything happens to you. You appease her with saying you will, but you sure as hell don’t plan on doing so.

Closing the door, you sigh deeply and it leaves you a little lightheaded as you lean your back against the door.

“Oh, shit.”

It hits you then that this is really happening. Like, your idiotic plan your brain thought up of that you thought was foolproof was really happening. There were so many holes that could expose you in a second and the thought of you being ousted in front of your parents tugged at your pride riddled mind.

The anxiety twitches your fingers as you pull up your phone and it leaves you staring at his message from last night.

yoongi: see u at 10:30

You forget he suddenly promised an earlier time at the last minute and you reckon you’ve got yourself about twenty or so minutes for him to show up at your door. It’s enough time for you to beat your face with makeup and put on some presentable clothes.

At 10:30 sharp he arrives at the door and it catches you by surprise because he doesn’t seem to be an advocate for timeliness. You tug down at your cropped sweater one last time before you open the door to see Yoongi in all his slightly bloated, freshly showered glory.

He looks a bit nervous, seeing as how he kept worrying over this very situation he should never have gotten himself into over the night not to mention what if you sent him the wrong address. Yoongi’s eyes flit from your face to the room behind you but he manages to keep his jittery

“Hey,” you sigh in relief. “Thank goodness you’re here. And thanks for coming so early.”

Yoongi loses a bit of the nervousness in his system and seems a bit more relaxed than he was when you first met him, probably because he’s gotten a better grip of his surroundings than last night, when he was completely hit with a curveball. In the face. At 500 miles per hour. In the form of you. HIs face loses the tension in the muscles and his lips take on a nonchalant smile. You also notice he’s wearing the same leather jacket as last night and you wonder if he has anything else available to wear.

“No worries,” he says in that gruff voice of his but he clears his throat quickly and yeah, you notice he’s still pretty high strung. This whole tribulation is probably a first for him too.

“Come on in,” you gesture inside, and make space for him to make through. Not that he needed much anyways being the tiny man he is.

“Alright,” he mutters, stepping into the apartment and slipping off his shoes. He doesn’t really pay attention to the apartment anymore but rather your outfit. You wearing sweatpants that still hug your legs and figure looks really good with the bit of skin exposed under the hem of your cropped Adidas sweater and Oh my God shut up, he scolds his train of thought.

It’s just that psychology of attraction at first sight, or whatever. Sure, it’s not his first time meeting you, sure, but you two have only recently met. Yoongi is certain he is a man of strong will. He would never let himself start feelings these things for someone who is already in a relationship.

He tears his gaze away from you before you can notice his burning stare and starts to run his eyes over the layout.

“Well,” you laugh strangely, trying to cover your skittishness. “This is where I live. I guess we can run over what we talked about last night over there on the couch.”

You point at the black sofa and Yoongi nods, walking over to sit down stiffly.

“Did you want something to drink?” You ask, noticing the way he stays pretty quiet. This won’t do. Your fake boyfriend is a great conversationalist.

“No, I’m fine, let’s just go over what we have to. I don’t wanna mess up…” Yoongi trails off and a hint of concern tinges his voice as you smile.

“Sounds good,” you agree.

“Okay, first things first,” you start reciting the basics as you are sat next to him. Yoongi does a really good job of staying on task at first, he swears. He’s listening intently but all of a sudden he’s thinking about how sweet and pretty your voice is and next thing he knows he’s thinking about how hard it is to just even meet your gaze, because your eyes are just such a wonderful outlet of all your emotions it’s really hard to meet them and not just go on and dive into the pool that is you and then—

“We might have to gel your hair back,” you muse softly and Yoongi is shaken out of his schoolboy crush-like trance.

“Fuck no. No,” Yoongi is firm with his decision, holding his hand out to emphasize his stance. “The forehead stays covered.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh as you cover your mouth with your hand and say, “Fine.”

Yoongi notices once again how you have a habit of doing that when laughing and he hates how it’s pretty adorable.

“How did you get here, anyways?” You ask suddenly. “Not with your bike, I hope…?”

Yoongi grins at you and you notice that he’s one of those gummy grinners and it does a little something to you but you avoid it at all costs and swallow it down.

“I Ubered here,” he said simply. “I figured I could say my car’s in the shop if your parents ask.”

You widen your eyes and nod in approval. “Brilliant! That’s really good Yoongi, thank God I don’t have to pay for a rent a car.”

“Speaking of payment,” Yoongi is reminded of your debt to him at the passing mention of money but is glowing from your praise. “Need I say more? Don’t worry about the Uber fee, I won’t be holding those against you, call it service.”

“How kind of you,” you grimace, hearing the cries of your emergency money once more, as you tell him to stay put. “I’ll be right back with half of it.”

When you count out 300 and carefully tuck the rest away, you turn around to walk out only to see Yoongi peering in your door, arms crossed and looking quite interested.

You jump at the sudden intrusion-like non-intrusion and scowl, asking, “What are you doing here? You scared me shitless and you’re very lucky I didn’t shriek.”

He shrugged, tousling his dark hair from his eyes and replied, “If I’m gonna be your fake boyfriend, I should know what your room looks like. As your fake boyfriend, of course.”

You groan and tell him, “Get a good, quick look around, because here’s your money and now we’re leaving.” You slap the wad of cash onto his unsuspecting palm and push his shoulders out the door.

“I know you kind of know me because of all the information I might’ve been burning into your mind the past 24 hours about yours truly, but I barely know a thing about you and we’re really acquaintences at best, still.”

Yoongi lets you lead him out of the hall into the living room and with a quick look at your lockscreen, you see that it’s still only 11:14. He stuffs the money in the back pocket of his jeans, which fit him quite nicely around the thigh area, if you may say so yourself.

“Fine,” he mutters and you barely catch it with your already dull hearing.

“What’s fine?” You ask, sitting down on the sofa as he takes a seat as well.

“I said, fine. What do you wanna know about me?” He asks, finding interest in the boring coffee table.

“Uh,” you trail off, unprepared for this kind of a question. “Wait, do I want to know more about you? I should be thinking of you as my boyfriend Jungkook, putting history and information behind you would make it too easy for me to differentiate…”

Yoongi rolls his eyes with a condescending sigh that you somehow know isn’t very genuine. “Just ask three things about me, so we’re not complete strangers,” he offers a compromising deal.

You let it sit with you for a second. If you made a slip up would you be able to recover? It was already hard enough, calling him Yoongi—already so hard enough that it was weird to remind yourself you’d have to be calling him Jungkook in a few hours. Eh, screw it.

“Where do you work?” You ask your first question tentatively.

“I work as a part time server for now,” he replies as if it’s something of a bother. “At the barbecue place downtown.” You have a brief idea of where it is, having passed by it a few times while you were in the vicinity.

“Alright,” you huffed. “What’s your other part time?”

Yoongi looks a bit confused at first with the way you worded it, but he catches on quickly seeing as how he’s got a fast train of thought.

“Oh, yeah. You remember my bike? I wanna go into autotech service. Or something like that, like engineering,” he vocalizes his thoughts and grows a bit red.

“That’s really awesome,” you smile at him and he grows comforted by the idea of you approving his passion. Although he shouldn’t be so—

“Do you have a girlfriend?” This question takes you back by surprise too, and you swear it was a slip of your tongue.

“I—“ Yoongi wasn’t ready, didn’t even think you were one bit interested in his love life but he answers directly. “No.”

For some reason you like hearing that answer, something like satisfaction burns at your tongue and heart and you don’t understand why when you have a perfectly cute boyfriend named Jeon Jungkook (the real one) you can call yours.

“Sorry, I didn’t know where that came from,” you giggle nervously.

Yoongi brushes it off and breathes evenly. He’s not sure why he’s worked up uncomfortably like this and he wants to skip to the part where this is all over and he goes back to moping around, living out his normal, daily routine.

We are acquaintances, he keeps reminding himself.

You two end up talking about yourselves a bit more, because pictures of your dog reminds him of his dog and from there the conversation flows a little too perfectly because now you’re intrigued by the mystery that is Min Yoongi and you want to know more and everything about him. This goes on for the next six hours and it’s filled with so much talking and laughing and you’ve even cooked up lunch because oh my goodness you found ingredients to make pancakes.

Then dawn rolls around as if it’s only been a mere thirty minutes and to be honest, it feels likes you know Min Yoongi more than your own boyfriend Jeon Jungkook.

You shake that last thought off, startled from the way you so abruptly stated that. Internally, of course.

Yoongi’s barely opened his mouth to ask you another question when-

The doorbell rings and it echoes throughout the inside of your home and holy shit it feels so intimidating and loud and Yoongi just isn’t ready, but can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now if he’s this scared of what’s to come.

You glance at him almost as if you’re seeking refuge in someone’s comfort so he grits his teeth a bit because between the two of you, he realizes he’s got to stay the rock.

Yoongi narrows his eyes until they resemble somewhat to a feline’s. He’s the rock.

And not just in the Dwayne Johnson sort of way.

oooooookay oh my goodness this is unedited but i wanted it off my shoulders before i got to work so here this is please enjoy but send me feedback or anything you'd like through my inbox thanks!!!

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cutest-bunny-writings · 2 years ago

Text

Pull On My Heart Strings

Genre: angst, fluff, ✨ cliche romance(ish) ✨

Rating: 13+

Warning: social anxiety, self-doubt, getting disowned, much romantic cliches about falling in laps, crying, pepper spray is mentioned, a disappointing phone call,

Note: I don't remember writing a lot of this because I was loaded on meds for a severe lung infection.😅

Summary: You've been waiting to see this show for so long. To see award winning harpist Min Yoongi perform live, in a front row seat! What could possibly go wrong?

Word Count: 2k+ (I think?)

Pairing: harpist!Yoongi X (f.)reader

You dance around in your room as you get ready for tonight, humming the melody of your favorite song by your favorite musician. Award-winning harpist Min Yoongi. And tonight's the night you finally get to see a live solo concert of him. With front row seating!

You squeal to yourself just thinking about it, having to take makeup brush away from your eye when a delighted shiver follows.

Your best friend, Beau, is coming with you since you don't do to great by yourself in crowded areas. Let alone such a crowded place like La Plaza de Amor, a typically busy place that's bound to be busier tonight than ever.

Your phone rings, making your vanity shake with vigor on its uneven legs. It's a call from Beau and you're pretty sure you know what this is about but it's not their fault.

"Hello, Beau?" You question while trying to maneuver your heels onto your feet without dropping your phone, a skill you unfortunately didn't inherit from your mother.

"Hi, Y/N. I'm sorry but I can't go with you tonight. I'm on baby duty because Casey got called in to do emergency surgery. I think you'll be okay by yourself, but remember to take your pepper spray!" They sound so cheery but you know they're exhausted.

"I will!" You smile despite the sadness that sits in your heart. You knew that Beau was also looking forward to this as a break from parenting. And you know Casey's a surgeon but sticking your partner with no alone time and refusing to pay for a babysitter is ridiculous, borderline insane.

You stumble through your house as you try to get used to your fancy shoes, typically used to flats and athletic shoes. You do accidentally bump your hip into the kitchen counter, being more concerned about potentially having ripped your dress than with the expected deep purple bruise that is sure to develop within the next few hours.

Upon arriving at the Plaza, you suddenly felt bother over-dressed and under-dressed. Some of the attendants are dresses to let you know that they have the money to make this look like everyone else shops at crappy thrift stores. Others are dressed in modest fashions that hide "scandalous" parts of the body, taking care to not draw attention away from the lavish architecture and color of the Plaza, dressing in three colors or less.

You're starting to think that you look like a peasant compared to these people. Your dress is thrifted. Ankle length with long sleeves that end at the wrist and a cowl neckline. It's a soft midnight black silk and your shoes (also thrifted) are pure black leather with a three inch heel.

The excited energy begins to fill you once again as you start to listen to the other excited harp enthusiasts discuss, wondering what tonight's playlist shall be. Perhaps original songs or covers of songs? You bet he's going to play originals, those seem to be his favorite to perform. You love seeing him get lost in his own melodic creations.

You know the majority of Yoongi's career history as a harpist. He originally started with an orchestra but quickly rose to fame by performing solos with concerts that got his name in the headlines of every muscial journal that was still up and running.

Everyone could tell from the very start that Yoongi was meant to do great things in his musical career, but the same faith didn't exist in other aspects of his life.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you could please find your seats within the next thirty minutes while we prepare for the concert, that would be wonderful." A voice speaks through the cleverly hidden speakers in the Plaza.

You find your seat in the front, at the perfect angle to see that beauty that is Yoongi's face. And now he has shoulder-length hair to make him look even prettier during his majestic performances.

God, you really just want to play with his hair and hands.

Okay, stop. You're here to appreciate his musical talents, not thirst over his physical features. Well...maybe both. But mostly here for the music.

You excitedly settle into your seat once you find it, ironically surrounded by very beautiful men and women. You're starting to feel like a peasant again.

"You're staring." The guy next to you speaks.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" You didn't even realize that you were staring at him. He looks like one of the men from the pictures of Yoongi and his friends.

"It's okay. I know I'm world wide handsome."

Yup, that's the only one older than Yoongi. His hyung, Kim Seokjin also known as World Wide Handsome.

So that must mean they were given front row seats by Yoongi, which you completely expected because they're his close friends.

You didn't expect a crowd of refined rich people to go nuts over a man just walking on stage. But you can see why.

Yoongi in a cloud gray three-piece of suit with a flower crown made up of sprigs of baby's breath. He's not wearing the blazer like a blazer either, it's draped over his shoulders and head in place by a sweater guard.

"Hello, and thank you for coming to my concert." He bows to the audience before going go sit on his bench behind his harp.

The fact that this man has full confidence in himself and his musical capabilities to immediately close his eyes.

The first strike of the strings gives away exactly what the song is, one that makes your eyes water with heartache for something, but you don't know what that something is.

You're kind of embarrassed when the song is over and you come to the realization that you've been crying, but only after the man next to you offers a tissue.

"Thank you." You carefully accept the tissue, taking care to not touch the man's hand.

"You're welcome."

The second song begins and Yoongi's eyes are still closed.

It's almost unbelievable when the concert comes to an end. The warm glow of the lights fade out and you hear the sounds of dress shoes walking across the stage.

When the lights come back on, Yoongi is gone and so are his friends.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you are interested, there will be a meet and greet in a few minutes."

As much as you love that idea, you really need to go to the bathroom and you don't know where the bathroom is so this might take a little bit.

Hallway after hallway and they're all starting to blur together.

Voices draw you towards what you think is the hallway with the bathrooms, which would be correct!

You finally get a chance to relieve yourself and thank God these toilets have that new quiet flush feature.

While you're washing your hands, you hear a conversation through the wall and some very distinct crying noises. Being the naturally nosy person you are, you feel the need to investigate, but you also want to console whoever is sobbing like that.

You're very surprised when it leads you to Yoongi's dressing room.

You have to carefully consider your next move. To know or to not knock. You decide on knocking.

The room goes quiet on the inside before someone opens the door. It's the man from earlier.

"Oh, it's you."

"Uhm, I'm sorry but I heard somebody's crying and got concerned along with curious. I just wanted to make sure that everyone was okay." You wrong your hands together and look at the floor.

He closes the door so you start to walk away, only getting about five feet before the door opens again and you're told to come in.

You carefully take off your shoes when you come into the room and place them next to the others, the men's dress shoes. This makes you significantly shorter and suddenly you feel more intimidated than before.

You make your way to the only open spot there is in the room, the vanity bench. It's surprisingly soft and cushiony.

Yoongi watches your every move through red and puffy eyes.

You make eye contact and he sniffles which breaks the silence.

"Do you want us to leave you two alone?" The tallest one asks.

"Yeah, I think it'll be fine." Yoongi wipes his eyes with his shirt sleeve and sniffles again.

The other six men exit, leaving you alone with your musical idol.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I know." He runs his hands through his hair when he leans forward. "I also know that you cried during the performance." He smiles to himself.

You blush and look down at the floor again.

"Nothing to be ashamed of. That means you actually care about the music. And Seokjin told me what happened." He leans back and pushes his hair back, relaxing and letting his eyes shut. "You're welcome to come sit on the couch if that bench is too uncomfortable." He pops an eye open to look at your face redden again.

You hesitantly rise from the bench and try to walk as carefully as possible over to the couch, unfortunately tripping on a loose water bottle.

You're caught by Yoongi's hands which feel much larger on your waist than you initially thought they would be.

The fall and the catch land you in Yoongi's lap and you panic.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" You try to escape but his hands hold you firmly in his lap.

Your face burns and you stare at the buttons on Yoongi's shirt instead of hands on his shoulders, making sure your entire weight isn't on him.

"You can let go. I'm probably too heavy anyway."

"But what if I don't want to let go? This is quite nice."

Yoongi didn't think you could get anymore red than you already were but you looked redder than a tomato and that caused a laugh to escape him.

"Do you still want to know why I was crying?" He pushes a strand of hair out of your face so you'll look at him.

"Yes, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I'll tell you because I want to. You don't seem like a sasaeng."

You can feel his hand moving on your back and you try your hardest not to budge.

"I got a phone call from my parents."

Everyone knows that Yoongi's relationship with his parents has been rocky since his teens when he first expressed no interest in becoming a doctor, surgeon, lawyer or politician.

"They've officially disowned me. And even thofuut I'm a grown man, that still hurts." He eyes start to water again and his voice cracks. "My name is being removed from all inheritances and assets."

You shift in your spot on Yoongi's lap and reach for his face. Carefully brushing the tears away. "It'll be okay. Do you have somewhere to live?"

"Yeah, I found a place to keep a low profile and avoid the paparazzi for the time being." His hands come up to hold your cheeks and a soft smile graces his lips. "Thanks for caring."

"I don't think I have much else to care about." You laugh.

"Oh, pretty girl has jokes, I see!"

You blush again and lightly smack Yoongi's chest.

"You know what, here." He reaches for a piece of paper of the side table and scribbles an address. "Come visit me when you can. I'll be home most of the time."

You take the piece of paper and stash it in your purse. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Sorry to tell you this right when we're relaxing, but the meet and greet is in like three minutes."

"Damn." You sadly laugh. "I guess I'll see you next time I'm free."

"I hope so."

You climb off Yoongi's lap and he ushers you out the door after checking that that coast is clear.

"Bye."

"Bye-bye."

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I hope you enjoyed and I love you, my fluffies!🥰

#yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x oc #yoongi x you #yoongi fic #yoongi ff #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #composition of the century #cotc

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